


Endless Potential

by greendoodle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crushes, First Meetings, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Mild Language, Pining, akaashi crushing first, first year akaashi and second year bokuto and growing together, literally tho hes so gay, mild homophobia, plot twist bokuto is not straight, thirsty Akaashi, what a surprise tbh what else did you expect from me XD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-04-18 22:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14223009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greendoodle/pseuds/greendoodle
Summary: “Oh, sorry there, I didn’t see you!”Akaashi looked up at the voice, and immediately felt his breath catch in his throat. The eyes that met his were shining gold, nearly luminous in the drear of the afternoon downpour. The droplets that dripped from his drenched black and white hair glistened in the little light provided by the gym. Akaashi couldn’t stop staring even as he felt his face flush. He knew it wasn’t because of the cold.AKA "Akaashi is gay and Bokuto is dense af" or "thirsty Akaashi (tM)"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hey, hey! I'm back with more gay owls for BokuAka day!! The best holiday of the year tbh, let's be real.
> 
> Inspired by [Kkumri's "Akaashi crushing first" comic](http://kkumri.tumblr.com/post/169230769512/i-propose-akaashi-crushing-first) ;D IT GAVE ME SO MUCH LIFE, I CANNOT.
> 
> I was half tempted to just title this "Akaashi is gay and Bokuto is dense" but.. XDD I'm glad I managed to finish this for BokuAka day, but heads up, chapter 2 will prob not come for a few weeks or so! I'm aiming to complete some of my older multichapters (which aren't that great tbh but I just want to complete them for completion sake XD) so I've been focusing on those for a while.
> 
> Anywho! Hope you all enjoy (thirsty Akaashi)!

Bokuto-san was straight.

This, Akaashi knew.

The first time he saw Bokuto was back in middle school as Akaashi stood, sticky, sweaty, in the stands, watching Fukurodani High School completely obliterate another nameless school in a volleyball match.

Bokuto wasn’t a regular at that point. Heck, he was probably one of the lower tier players on the bench, but their ace had gotten injured and the school had no other option than to call in the second-year.

The thing is—he wasn’t a bad player, not in the slightest.

 _Not bad looking either_ , Akaashi heard a voice whisper in the back of his mind.

He watched as jersey number four leapt onto the court, a bit jittery from the nerves, but excited eyes bright, alert, and sweeping across the faces of the rest of his teammates. His teammates in turn gave each other looks that Akaashi recognized as uncertainty.

“Excuse me,” Akaashi addressed the person in the stands next to him. The person in question started but kept most of his focus on the court as Akaashi continued. “Who’s that number four?”

“Ah, him? That’s Bokuto, first-year. He’s not bad, but he’s got some issues he’s got to work out.”

Akaashi looked back at Bokuto, eyebrows lowered in silent scrutiny. Surely, any player regardless of their current level of athleticism could improve. He quietly thanked the man and watched as Bokuto took his place on the left. The volleyball player wrung his hands, then raised them to the sky in a loud stretch.

_Those biceps._

His parents had told him that he was too young to know his sexuality, but fuck it, he knew he liked seeing those rippling muscles. He'd never felt the same way about girls as he did about guys and he was more than certain that that fact wouldn't change no matter how much time passed. Unfortunately, his parents had waived off the inconvenient part of his identity to the side and suggested he get into sports to build his masculinity.

As if being around hot, sweaty men 24/7 wasn’t an invitation to stare or anything.

He had already visited the school basketball, baseball, and soccer teams, reveling in the eye candy of each. His last stop was the volleyball team and although it was his first choice from the start, he figured he should observe other sports teams as well before making his final decision. He normally would be studying at this hour, but instead, there he was, in the middle of a ginormous crowd, watching a bunch of sweaty guys smack balls across the court.

Yet, any guilt he would have over not studying was lost as he watched the boys on the court run around, swiftly swooping in to grab passes, tosses, and the like. Akaashi's parents had supported his studies through his entire academic career and wanted him to focus on them but had decided that enough was enough and their son should get out more, build up some fellow male companions to do fellow manly things together.

But, Akaashi knew. He wasn't a child anymore. He was old enough to know what he wanted. Joining a sports team would only make his 'problem' worse.

A cheer from below rippled through the stands and brought his attention back to the game. Number four had scored a point and was high fiving nearby teammates with the full force of a spike. The receiving parties returned the gesture with subdued enthusiasm, though they didn’t seem as off put as they first were when Bokuto had first stepped onto the court.

Akaashi smiled. The team was good. He was excited to be a part of it.

Quite frankly, Akaashi wasn't bad with athletics. He wasn't a star prodigy, but he was fairly decent and he was certain that with enough practice, he could grab a regular spot in no time. He had picked volleyball as his choice of sport because it was the one of the only ones, along with swimming, that he watched on television. And to be honest, he would rather not wear tight spandex. But, that was only a personal preference.

A whistle rang and cheers echoed throughout the gymnasium. Akaashi stood up from his seat, slugging his bag over his shoulder. He gave the Fukurodani volleyball team one last look, gaze lingering a little bit longer on the peculiar number four before moving on to the rest of the members.

There were a few holes in their play, but overall, Akaashi was very impressed. He was certain this was the team he wanted to join. The third-year captain and several of the second-year players seemed to work well together and created a synergy on the court that often went unrivaled by their foes. He was certain his parents would approve as well given that the team had gone to nationals several times in the past.

As he headed out the door, he felt a small smile tug at his lips. Now he only had to tackle the entrance exam.

_Piece of cake._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a rainy day. Another reason for Akaashi to stay in and study, yet, he was changing his shoes in the locker room, getting ready for the biggest decision of his high school career—joining a sports team.

Joining a sports team was a commitment. There were no times for frivolities or games, unless those games happened to take place on a court. He had to stay focused, no matter how distracting anything or any _one_ was…

Akaashi shook his head, fighting a grin that threatened to split his face. He wasn’t one for showing emotion or making a big deal about things, but this was the first decision he was allowed to decide for himself in his 16 years of life. It was important to him and he was excited for something new.

Taking a deep breath and stepping out of the locker room with a black umbrella in hand, he jogged across the field where a couple male students were already making their way into the gymnasium. The rain was falling steadily around them and the skies were dark, but Akaashi’s mood was high.

Upon reaching his destination, he began to fold up his umbrella at the door, listening to the squeak of shoes from inside. But just before he followed the others into the gym, another umbrella that seemingly came out of nowhere smacked against his right shoulder, sending a spray of water flying everywhere.

“Oh, sorry there, I didn’t see you!”

Akaashi looked up at the voice, and immediately felt his breath catch in his throat. The eyes that met his were shining gold, nearly luminous in the drear of the afternoon downpour. Akaashi felt his brain pause and rewind, uncertain that those eyes had a natural color given to man. The student’s dress shirt sleeves were rolled back and his arms and all their muscley glory seemed to glow under the raindrops that fell around them. The droplets that dripped from his drenched black and white hair glistened in the little light provided by the gym. Akaashi couldn’t stop staring even as he felt his face flush. He knew it wasn’t because of the cold.

“Oh wait, are you here for volleyball tryouts?”

All words failed to come to him in that moment and all Akaashi could do was nod in response. The student offered an ear-splitting smile, giving his umbrella a few strong shakes before turning to the first-year with rapt attention.

“Position? What’s your position?”

“Ah,” Akaashi responded quietly, distrusting his voice to hold as he folded up his umbrella as well. The two entered the gymnasium together, those golden eyes fixed on Akaashi the entire time. “Setter.”

“Setter!” the student yelped, and Akaashi stepped back from the sheer volume of the noise. The others in the building turned to see what the commotion was about. “Set for me!”

Akaashi blinked, shrinking a little into himself, but hopefully not noticeably so. He wasn’t sure if this was part of the test, other than the test that was happening in the recesses of his heart.

A student with dirty-blonde hair stepped forward, as if to ease the tension. He made his way to stand between Akaashi and the golden-eyed boy, a small unintimidating smile on his face. “Sorry about Bokuto. I’m Konoha. You a first-year?”

Something about the first name rung a bell, but Akaashi couldn’t place it. He felt his shoulders relax and gave a curt bow in response. “Yes, my name is Akaashi Keiji, I’m a first-year. It’s nice to meet you.”

Akaashi noticed the boy behind Konoha fidget to get a better look at him and he felt himself shrink a little once more under the attention. Konoha smiled, gesturing to the rest of the students in the gym.

“Well, this is us, the Fukurodani volleyball team. You can join the other club applicants over by that white line and we’ll start tryouts soon.”

Looking over at where Konoha was pointing, Akaashi saw a fair-sized huddle of people, half-excited, half-nervous in the right corner of the room. He bowed to his upperclassmen before making his way to join them.

Before he left, he heard Konoha chastise Bokuto about ‘scaring the first-years.’ Bokuto talked back adamantly, asserting that the best way to test the new members would be to see their skills directly.

Akaashi couldn’t deny the truth behind the statement, but he made no comment and he made sure to avoid eye contact with Bokuto for the rest of tryouts. That didn’t stop him from staring whenever the upperclassman’s back was turned, watching the quiet ripple of those muscles whenever he spiked. But, no, he wasn’t crushing. He could admire the hard work others put into their training without any romantic implications.

Ultimately, Akaashi stayed focused on the tryouts because that’s all that mattered. He didn’t let himself think about the way those golden eyes shined or the enthusiasm his upperclassman exuded.

He didn’t think about him afterwards either, he promised. After all, volleyball was a serious sport. No crushing allowed.

 

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t a surprise that Akaashi got into the team, no questions asked. He was one of the only players trying out for the setter position and he was damn good at it too. At least, that’s what Bokuto had said when he started his first official day on the volleyball team.

Akaashi didn’t recognize Bokuto at first. To be fair, he’d never officially met him, though he did remember a widely built student with spiky hair who wasn’t socially accepted by his peers.

Honestly, he didn’t really look like himself when they first met anyways. For one, the upperclassman’s hair was gelled up in a ridiculous manner on the court. Meeting on a rainy day hadn’t helped jog Akaashi’s memory. If he was speaking fairly though, Bokuto Koutarou wasn’t a bad catch with his hair up _or_ down.

Also, he wasn’t entirely sure if Bokuto was an idiot. It was pouring outside and yet, his upperclassman had not only rolled up his sleeves, but also forgotten his school blazer somewhere. Scratch that, he was definitely an idiot. An adorable, forgetful, perfectly toned idiot. He wondered if these characteristics were what made his teammates despise him as they did--the idiot part at least. According to Konoha, the third-years’ dislike of Bokuto was nothing compared to the absolute disgust the graduating class of the preceding year had for him. Akaashi didn’t understand.

Bokuto was excitable for sure. He was loud and rambunctious and often butt into people’s business with little ability to read the atmosphere for the situation. He wore baseball caps backwards, fussed over his hair constantly, and did not for the life of him know how to tie his shoelaces in a way that kept them together for more than ten minutes.

He was a mess and Akaashi knew that the boy was absolutely, completely, and undeniably straight.

That’s just how this stuff worked.

But, Akaashi didn’t go into sports to get lucky—he was content with how things were. After he had gotten into the volleyball team for good, he wanted to stay away from Bokuto, but of course, the boy himself wouldn’t have it. The third-years were all unwilling to give up the regular position on court, but the others were expected to keep up in case of any game emergencies. So, the second and first-years alike all buckled down for Spartan training, subjecting themselves to hours upon hours of sweat-inducing exercises. A few students quit, but most of them knew what they were signing up for when applying for the team of a school recognized yearly by the nationals.

Bokuto had chosen Akaashi. He caught the first-year after the others had snuck away, keeping the boy for late practice until the dead hours of the night. Bokuto said he needed a setter and Akaashi didn’t know why he felt compelled to submit to the whims of his senior.

No, he did. If the bright red tint to his ears weren’t a good enough indicator, he knew. He was fighting a hopeless battle, he knew, but he couldn’t stop. He promised himself that all the practice would be worth it in the end when the team makes it to nationals. It wasn’t for Bokuto specifically, it was for him, it was for them, it was for all of them collectively. He was lying to himself.

He knew.

Did that stop him?

Akaashi bit his lower lip as he sent another toss in Bokuto’s direction, watching the upperclassman fly up to receive the hit. The sun glinted through the windows and cast a shadow across him, Bokuto’s face scrunched up in concentration, tongue sticking out. _Perfect._

His arm came slicing downwards and the sound that resonated through the building echoed across the walls. Bokuto cheered as if he had scored the point that won the game, connecting hands with Akaashi in a high five that left angry red marks. Akaashi thought he felt the beating of his own heart through his fingers and wondered if he could savor the feeling.

“Your jump was a little low there, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi finally managed.

“Aghaashi!” Bokuto whined, whirling around to give his underclassman what was assumed to be a sharp glare. “It was my best spike today! My straights are getting better!”

Akaashi nearly smiled. “It was adequate.”

As Bokuto grumbled in front of him, Akaashi grabbed another volleyball from the basket, pausing to ponder a burning question in his mind.

“Bokuto-san?”

“Hm?”

“Why do the third-years dislike you so much?”

Bokuto seemed to freeze up at the question and Akaashi wondered if he had overstepped his boundaries. Bokuto laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact. “It… it hasn’t happened for a while so, I think they’re okay with me right now.”

“Okay with you?”

Bokuto made a rough grab for a spare volleyball in the basket, clutching it tightly in his hands. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal, it’s nothing!”

Akaashi raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. Seeing as Bokuto was set on using the volleyball that he had grabbed, Akaashi returned his own volleyball to the basket and got ready for the setup. If Bokuto didn’t think it was a big deal, then it probably wasn’t, and he had worked with him long enough to know the upperclassman’s reliability. That was that.

 

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t long before he found out why.

In a practice match against a neighboring school, Bokuto was called in to play with the third-years when one of the wing spikers crashed into a nearby bench. Luckily, it seemed to be a mild nosebleed, but the coach kept him out of the game just in case.

Bokuto seemed to light up like a kid at a candy store. He pulled on his lucky kneepads—the ones that tested Akaashi’s self-control—and hopped onto the court with the others, and just as Akaashi had seen in his middle school years, high fived each and every one of them before starting. The third-years on court seemed a bit wary but made no comment and set their focus on the game in front of them.

It wasn’t a single miss.

Three or four times, Bokuto missed the spike set for him, stumbled over his own two feet, and failed to receive a few balls. With each miss, Bokuto’s mood seemed to plummet and the mood of his teammates followed suit. While they had started the set strong, they were now nearly ten points behind.

Akaashi wondered if it was a matter of self-confidence. Bokuto had a certain bravado about him where he continuously boasted about being the best, but Akaashi wondered if his upperclassman actually believed those words in entirety. Before he had realized it, Akaashi had reverted to his bad habit of picking at his fingers, watching the game with clenched jaws.

“Bokuto, get it together!” the coach yelled from the sidelines and Bokuto furiously nodded, but his furrowed brows told a different story.

“Bokuto!” the third-year setter called as he threw up another toss in his direction. Bokuto hesitated for a brief moment before pursuing it, but a moment too late, his hand connected with air and he stumbled forward, watching the ball fly past and off-court.

A whistle blew and Fukurodani groaned, another point taken from them once more. The coach swore under his breath, tapping his foot impatiently. The third-years shot Bokuto a loaded look. Bokuto slumped under their gazes, lower than Akaashi had ever seen.

“You should’ve been able to get that, Bokuto,” the third-year setter snapped, shooting daggers at the second-year. “It was a perfect setup.”

“…wasn’t…”

“Hah?!” the setter riled up, irritation clear in his eyes. “Wasn’t what exactly?”

Bokuto grumbled and his eyes seemed to almost glisten as if he were about to cry. “You don’t need to toss to me anymore.”

The players on the court collectively seemed to be holding back the same united murderous intent. Akaashi felt the air run cold and he wanted desperately to intervene. The Bokuto he knew wasn’t like this. Bokuto was better than this, better than whatever these third-years made of him.

Before he could step in, the coach heaved a heavy sigh, giving Bokuto a look. “Bokuto, I’m going to have to pull you out if you keep acting that way.”

“t’s fine,” was the mumbled response.

With that, the coach signaled the referee and soon, Bokuto was sitting on the bench next to Akaashi. As if he’d never left.

Akaashi wasn’t good with comforting words. It wasn’t really in his repertoire of skills, but he wanted to try at the very least. “Bokuto-san, you usually do better. You definitely could have stayed in.”

“No, I don’t, Akaashi.”

“I think I would know as I’ve been practicing with you the most.”

Bokuto looked up at Akaashi and let out a breathy laugh, one that sounded hollow and fake. “Yeah, okay.”

Akaashi pulled at his own fingers a little too hard.

They watched the rest of the game in silence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Unreliable. Inconsistent. Moody.

Unfit for competitive sports.

The many words he heard from the third-years boiled down to three main points. One, Bokuto was a mess. Two, he is impossible to deal with. Three, it’s better off leaving the excitable second-year alone.

“If you’d known he was like this before he dragged you off for extra practice, you definitely wouldn’t have stayed,” the third-year setter shrugged.

Akaashi was livid. From all the countless hours they had practiced together, Akaashi had never considered Bokuto anything other than reliable, consistent, and upbeat. He had the makings of greatness inside of him, and if others couldn’t see that, then what was the point of relying on such superficial teammates?

Granted, the episode had taken Akaashi by surprise. He knew Bokuto was easily swayed by his emotions. He seemed to live on spontaneity alone, jumping up to complete menial tasks, bounding across the school hallways to meet with his friends or grab lunch from the cafeteria. Despite this, he had his ups and his downs as any other person did. He wasn’t this inconvenience to be put back on the shelf or returned when he didn’t ‘function’ properly.

Nevertheless, the extra practices stopped.

Bokuto began to avoid Akaashi in the halls, giving a flimsy excuse about this or that or whatever thing he had to do. Akaashi only watched as Bokuto disappeared down the hall and wondered if his upperclassman had done anything wrong. Because in all honesty, he hadn’t.

And if he needed the extra reminder, well—

“A-akaashi!” Bokuto yelped, dropping his bag onto the floor of the locker room. His eyes immediately searched for escape routes and finding none with Akaashi standing firmly in front of him at the building entrance after practice, he slumped forward a bit, smiling sheepishly. “H-how are you?”

“Fine, thank you. Bokuto-san, I wanted to tal—”

“Ah, I’m actually really busy today! I promised Kuroo I’d hang out with him, you know, the guy from Nekoma—anyway! Yeah, so, lots of stuff to do, too many things for talking.”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said more firmly and the change in tone caused Bokuto to halt in his tracks. “Are you avoiding me?”

Bokuto choked, a mixture of spit and coughing, then tried to disguise it as a laugh. If Akaashi wasn’t so concerned, he would have thought it was kind of adorable. Gross, but adorable. “What? No… of course not…”

Again, he began to look for an exit that didn’t exist and Akaashi sighed, making direct eye contact with Bokuto in order to catch his attention. It worked, but Akaashi felt the heat creep up his neck once more from the piercing golden eyes. “Bokuto-san, are we not practicing together anymore?”

“I… uhm, that is…”

“Because I would still like to practice with you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto paused, looking at Akaashi with doubt clear in his wide eyes. He looked like a deer in the headlights. “…really?”

“Yes,” Akaashi gave a small smile.

Bokuto seemed to implode, his response a mixture of conjoined words and blubbering. He pulled Akaashi into a hug, and Akaashi felt as if his entire body was on fire. He hadn’t expected physical contact to be a part of this conversation, but he wasn’t entirely opposed against the idea now that he was at this point.

“Akaashi, really? Will you really keep tossing to me? Even if you saw me being all… ahh… like, you know?”

Akaashi closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath in the locker room that smelled a lot like the rubber of volleyball shoes, the odors of various body sprays, and Bokuto. “It’s not a problem. You’re better than that.”

If Bokuto’s eyes weren’t gleaming with tears before, they definitely were now. With a final “Akaashi—you’re the best!” he ran back into the building, ready to get some extra practice done. Akaashi followed him with his eyes until the upperclassman was out of sight. He felt as if Bokuto’s arms were still wrapped around him, enveloping him in warmth, care, appreciation.

The little bud of love had sprouted in the center of Akaashi’s soul and he knew there was no point in running. He would help Bokuto become the best he could possibly be on court and off of it, even if that meant that in the end, they would part. Whether through confession and rejection or some other means of distancing, it was bound to happen.

Yes, Bokuto-san was straight. This he knew.

He was straight as his hair, straight as the spikes he practiced, straight as any male classmate Akaashi passed by in the hallways at school.

And Akaashi was so, undeniably, inexplicably crushing on the boy. A boy he was absolutely sure, 100% positive he had no chance with.

_Fuck._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I haven't touched this since I finished it last month so.. here's the final installment of Akaashi being gay and Bokuto being gay right the heck back (spoiler alert; not that it wasn't obvious LOL XD) Enjoy!

Akaashi wondered if he was some kind of masochist.

When he had met Bokuto face to face on the first day of volleyball tryouts, he knew it was only a yearning. But, to stay in the upperclassman’s presence and see him day after day, unable to act on his gayest desires—nope, he was completely sure now. Akaashi was absolutely and undeniably a masochist.

In all honesty, he couldn't understand why he was crushing on Bokuto. Sure, the upperclassman was a bucketful of eyecandy, that was for certain. He boasted of his raw physical strength and proved it countless times on court, flexing those muscles of his over and over again, and driving Akaashi mad. And although his hair was a kitchen disaster of salt and pepper, his face wasn’t bad on the eyes either—in fact, Akaashi hated to admit that he didn’t mind getting lost in Bokuto’s eyes, in the wide, open smiles, in the way his cute nose flared when deep in concentration.

No, it wasn’t just that. Even from other schools, there were plenty of good looking guys in sports. Bokuto wasn’t the only one who flaunted a toned body and refined abs. In fact, most of the other players did as well, but there was just something more to Bokuto that drew Akaashi to him.

If he had to explain it--it was something about the way Bokuto’s eyes shined whenever he talks about things that excites him, something about the way his voice gives away his emotions, the happy and the sad, and something about the way he shows others such rapt, unadulterated attention that makes Akaashi feel as if he’s the only person in the world. The way that Bokuto did things so fully, wholly, completely, as if his life depended on it. The way he dragged others into his messes without even realizing it himself, and the way he made you care about him.

So objectively, yes, Akaashi guessed that there were definitely more than one reasons he could be crushing on his upperclassman. And definitely, he was a masochist for falling for the straightest guy on the team.

_Joy._

It definitely didn’t help that Bokuto was making it his life mission to hang out with Akaashi at any given moment of the day. After their discussion in the locker room, Bokuto seemed to be reborn, a new fire burning in his soul, and sticking to Akaashi like glue. When previously they had only spent time together for volleyball, now they were spending time together nearly every waking moment. Before school, during lunch, after school, after practice—the two seemed inseparable.

At first, their teammates had shot Akaashi a few pitying glances. The poor first-year who got stuck with the inconsolable second-year, the designated team babysitter, the unfortunate setter with weights chained to his feet. The walking inconvenience and the victim.

Whether Bokuto noticed the rude stares or not, Akaashi wasn’t sure, but regardless, he himself was not very happy with this unwarranted harassment, even if most of it went unsaid. He shot them sharp glares whenever he heard the whispers behind his back, even going as far as to stare disrespectfully at some of the third-year regulars as well. Eventually, the bullying stopped, but Akaashi could still feel that the others were not entirely satisfied with this turn in events.

Bokuto on the other hand was ecstatic. The extra practices fired him up rather than exhausting him, and although Akaashi had a difficult time keeping up at first, he eventually picked up the pace as well. They grew increasingly more in sync and Bokuto’s straights were getting even better day by day.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi began, as they started to put away volleyball equipment in the dead of the night. “Is there a reason you practice your straights so much?”

Bokuto blinked before scrunching up his face in deep concentration, a thoughtful hum reaching Akaashi’s ears. “Because, they’re cool I guess?”

“You have plenty of other moves. Don’t you specialize in the cross?”

At that, Bokuto slumped forward, a pout clear on his face. “Yeah, but they’ve been getting blocked lately so it’s no fun to play.”

Akaashi recalled a few practice matches where Bokuto’s spikes were blocked and received. “I see.”

“Coach says all I’m good for are my crosses, but if I can’t even do that then I have to practice the hell out of my straights, right!”

“Will they be usable in time for nationals though?”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto whined, chucking the last volleyball into the cart. “That’s why I’m practicing so hard! Besides, after coach sees how awesome I am he’ll definitely put me on court!”

Although Akaashi noticed the way Bokuto omitted the part where he would need to play with third-years who hated his guts, he made no comment. In fact, he felt kind of inspired by the upperclassman for thinking so positively about the whole ordeal.

Even though Bokuto was put down for his shortcomings, he recognized these weaknesses and strived to improve. After realizing his crosses weren’t going anywhere, he immediately switched to straights and although he’s been having trouble with those, he tries persistently, confident that he will be able to succeed in the end. Akaashi thought that above all things, he had the makings of a great ace. If only others could see that as well, then maybe, just maybe, they’d give Bokuto a chance to truly shine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The qualifiers came and left, and then the nationals followed soon afterwards. The second and first-years barely got to play in any games and by the time the last whistle rang, it was time to say goodbye to the third-years for good.

 _Good riddance_ , Akaashi thought in the back of his mind.

He hadn’t gotten along amazingly with them, but he did respect their skills enough to take bits and pieces of the techniques and strategies they would need for future competitions. As he waved farewell to the last of them, he turned to see Bokuto staring off into the distance, his eyes unfocused and glazed.

“Bokuto-san?”

“We can play in games now, right?”

Akaashi blinked, looking towards the retreating backs of the third-years in the orange glow of the setting sun. “Yes.”

“All the time? No switching out?”

A strained heartbeat pulsed in the center of Akaashi’s chest. He nodded, distrusting his mouth to convey all the feelings he had. Just as any other player, Bokuto feared getting switched out on his off days. He hated being seen as an inconvenience, the person who dragged the rest of the team down due to his own shortcomings. And Akaashi knew. It wasn’t just about being on court—it was being wanted, being appreciated for who he was and what he could contribute.

“Yes, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi breathed, the cold night air starting to stir around them. “We can play.”

 

 

 

 

 

Konoha was appointed new captain of the team. According to the retiring third-years, he was the most reliable of the bunch and was destined to lead Fukurodani to nationals once more, no doubt about it. He was level-headed, strong, and had an aptitude for leading. Konoha himself however, had different plans.

“I’d rather not deal with the hassle,” he admitted after practice, scratching the back of his head. “Plus, I don’t think I’m very leader-like. Can we have someone else do it?”

The second-years looked among themselves, a little lost and unsure. The first-years also seemed confused, but were a little less tense given that none of them qualified for the position.

“Honestly, I think Akaashi would be the best for captain, but he’s a first-year so…” Sarukui murmured.

Akaashi blinked, one hand placed on the cap of his water bottle. “Me?”

“Yeah, you can definitely keep this team together, you’ve been doing amazing overall so far! The only other person I can think of is Komi, but he’s the libero so he can’t.”

Komi shrugged in response to that, as if he wouldn’t have minded being captain if not for his current position that held him back.

Akaashi slowly placed his water bottle on the floor, turning to look at the rest of his teammates. “I’d be fine with the vice-captain position, but for captain—may I make a suggestion?”

At the others’ insistence, Akaashi took a deep breath before looking most of them in the eye, his fingers finding themselves behind his back. “What about Bokuto-san?”

Akaashi expected outright denial, or even laughter at worst. Instead, he was met with contemplative silence as the second-years looked between themselves. The only ones who seemed uncomfortable were a few of the first-years who had encountered Bokuto’s slumps firsthand.

“Me?” Bokuto mouthed, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. “But, I’m…”

The remaining second-years seemed to collectively shrug. Konoha hummed in thought before nodding. “Alright, if Akaashi says so.”

“Yeah, Bokuto isn’t a bad player. He’s one of our strongest wing spikers once he’s got his head in the game.”

“Bokuto’s solid on receives too—he can get the team fired up in ways a lot of us can’t.”

“He can definitely be captain.”

At that, the matter seemed settled and everyone started making their way out of the gym. Everyone except Bokuto who seemed to be at a loss for words.

“Bokuto-san? We’re going to close up.”

“Akaashi, wait, I can’t be captain!” Bokuto blurted, a mild panic building in his eyes. “What if everyone needs me and I just—I get lost in my head or something—you know I do that sometimes. If I get sad or upset or mad or something, I’m going to make us lose, I just know it we’re going to lose and we won’t go to nationals and it’ll be all my faul—”

“Bokuto-san.”

At that, Bokuto stopped, the burning questions fizzling away on the edge of his tongue. He looked at Akaashi with a look that seemed to beg, to plead, to demand an explanation because whatever he was good at and whatever he could do, he definitely couldn’t do this. Not him. Not Bokuto Koutarou, the walking inconvenience.

Akaashi offered a small smile. “It’s okay, Bokuto-san. The second-years don’t see you the same way as the third-years did. You’re not someone overly emotional or stupid to them.”

Bokuto seemed to perk up a little and Akaashi continued.

“Additionally, it’s not just you fighting on that court…”

“…it’s all of us together.” Bokuto breathed, a calm settling around him.

“Yes.”

Bokuto seemed to brighten considerably at that and as the others made their way outside, he leapt after them, shouting a few words about being the best and how he’d definitely make them proud he was their captain. Akaashi followed after, a small grin tugging on the edges of his lips because this was where Bokuto was meant to be. Headstrong, enthusiastic, someone others should look up to despite his shortcomings.

And Akaashi was satisfied as the vice-captain, the one closest to Bokuto, but merely that alone—the support, the foundation, the one to lift Bokuto back up whenever he got down. If he could stay by Bokuto’s side and watch him shine, Akaashi would want nothing more.

The ache in his heart went ignored.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Graduation passed and with it came a new school year.

The retiring third-years left unsatisfied with the volleyball team’s choice in captain, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. Bokuto Koutarou was to be captain and that was that—that’s what they all had decided.

In the new school year, many players quit. Some couldn’t handle not playing as regulars while others were unsure about the future of the volleyball team from here on forward with Bokuto as captain. Even the coach retired, but whether or not it was due to Bokuto’s promotion, it was uncertain. Regardless, despite these losses, nearly all the second—now third-years—stayed and Akaashi hoped it was because they saw the same potential in Bokuto as he himself did for the upperclassman.

It was only through this captain position that Bokuto seemed to be getting some of recognition he deserved. Some volleyball club fans seemed to revere him as a spiking champion after they started to focus on him. They had no idea that he could do crosses or receive difficult balls—their attention was always given to the prior third-years who had written him off as a nuisance.

The current third-years relied on Bokuto more and soon, it seemed as if the entire atmosphere of the team had changed. Not one person was a disadvantage for the team—they were all in this together. As if to welcome this new energy, two new managers joined them along with a coach who seemed to be a lot more accommodating than the last.

Bokuto seemed to glow under all the attention. He hit harder, received faster, and called for tosses more confidently than ever before. He seemed to be on fire, an unquenchable energy that stemmed from belief. Belief that others believed he could do what he said he could do and belief in himself as a captain, a player, a person. He became recognized in the prefecture as one of the top five aces in the country. Akaashi couldn’t have been prouder.

“Y’know Akaashi,” Bokuto mused one late night after practice, his eyes reflecting the stars in the skies above. Akaashi tried not to focus on those golden irises for too long as they sat together on the stairs leading to the gymnasium. “When I first joined volleyball, I think I wanted a team where everyone could be family and you can ask for help when you need it. And, nobody hated you for it.”

Akaashi exhaled, a puff of cold air escaping his lips. "Was that your dream?”

“No,” Bokuto laughed a little breathlessly. “But, hey, it’s nice, isn’t it?”

Akaashi couldn’t find the right words to admit it then, but yes, he did think it was nice. Just as he thought it was nice whenever Bokuto smiled genuinely as he played on court, the way he was filled with a new energy to tackle everyday problems as if there were no tomorrow, and how nice he thought it would be if he could for once, for a brief moment, hold Bokuto’s hand to capture some of that light in the palm of his own hand.

But no, Akaashi could only watch as Bokuto trudged forward to success, and Akaashi was satisfied if he could only have a taste of victory by his side. Volleyball was a serious sport. Even more serious now that they were the leaders of the nationally recognized Fukurodani team. No crushing.

But, Akaashi knew it wasn’t a crush at this point. He was so undeniably and terribly in love and every moment he spent with Bokuto seemed to test his patience bit by bit until he would eventually break and the comfortable atmosphere they had constructed around the team would shatter and it would be Akaashi’s fault. His fault for not keeping these selfish feelings to himself, his fault for letting himself fall.

But, who wouldn’t fall for Bokuto Koutarou? He was a rollercoaster, a storm, he was a rush of happiness, the spring that came after a cold, frigid winter, the warm summer that came after a breezy spring.

Akaashi started a list of Bokuto’s weaknesses. He’d hoped to use this in order to improve their own coordination on court and improve the upperclassman’s strengths, but in all honesty, he was probably trying to see faults in Bokuto’s character so that he could get over the guy. Unfortunately, the list seemed to do the opposite and countless times Akaashi caught himself looking back at the numbered collection, thinking about how to help Bokuto, how to encourage Bokuto, how to boost him up to be the very best he could be.

Sometimes, Akaashi let his thoughts wander. A few times he caught Bokuto staring or blush hard whenever Akaashi caught him off guard. A couple times, Bokuto would talk animatedly about the kind of person he liked—someone who was a good listener, with long slender fingers and enough snark to talk back, someone he could talk with about volleyball, about animals, about anything that made him happy. Someone he could hug and adore for the rest of his life, who he could smother with kisses and hold hands with through sun or rain.

Akaashi heard it all and imagined. He dreamt of thick arms around his waist, calloused fingers running through his hair, and let himself hope. Let himself lie because no matter how much he wanted it, it wasn’t going to be him.

Bokuto only told him because that’s the kind of person he was, someone who overshared, who wanted his best friend to know the ins and outs of his love life even if Akaashi was silently pleading with him to stop. Bokuto only said “I like you” and “you’re the best” out of the kindness of his heart.

It didn’t mean anything.

So, Akaashi focused on the games in front of him and soon, it was time for the qualifiers for inter-high finals. Their first game was expected to be an easy win, but that didn’t stop Bokuto from firing up the rest of the team with his usual bouts of ‘hey hey hey’s’ and ‘we’re the best’s. If only the game went as smoothly as his cries of encouragement did.

There was one miss. Then, two.

A pit of dread settled into Akaashi’s stomach, but he didn’t let it stop him from tossing to Bokuto once more. The captain paused briefly before pursuing the ball and suddenly it was a repeat of last year all over again. His spike connected with air, the ball went flying off-court and he landed despondently in front of the net, eyes shrouded over by a tuft of misplaced hair.

“Bokuto-san, that one couldn’t have been help—”

“Akaashi.”

Akaashi stopped and waited for Bokuto to continue, gears turning over how he could alleviate the damage. In the end, he figured there was only one way to help.

“Don’t toss to me anymore!” Bokuto wailed.

“Alright,” Akaashi responded and the other third-years stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. The newly appointed managers on the side also seemed to question his leadership decision. “Please pull yourself together in the meantime.”

“Hey,” Konoha whispered when Akaashi walked towards him on the back line. “Is this really okay? Shouldn’t we swap him out for another player? I know we don’t have much reserves, but there’s a few on the bench…”

Akaashi shook his head, addressing the rest of the players on court. “Please continue playing as you usually do.” The ‘believe in Bokuto’s return’ went unsaid, but he hoped that they all understood.

Reluctantly, the others took their positions without another word. Bokuto seemed unsure of what to do, a bit lost and confused that he was still standing there with the rest of them. The other team seemed to see this lapse in confidence as their chance for a comeback. Akaashi’s eyes glinted dangerously. _As if he’d let that happen._

Slowly, but surely, Fukurodani continued to rack up points, not easing up in the slightest even as the other team started hitting harder and faster. It was as if nothing had changed, there were no gaps in their defenses, no cracks in their offense. As Akaashi tossed a ball meant for Konoha, he chanced a glance at Bokuto out of the corner of his eye.

Bokuto seemed to be a bit restless, eyeing the ball every now and then, but otherwise, following the same repetitive steps his body knew to get into position when needed, receive the ball when necessary, and stay out of the other teammates’ way when one of them went in for the kill.

He was moving fine, he was functioning fine, Bokuto was okay. And, he probably really wanted to hit a ball at this point.

Akaashi eyed the scoreboard which read 24-20, and with a knowing glance to his teammates, started the next play with a single person in mind.

_Bokuto._

_Toss to Bokuto-san._

“Bokuto-san!” he yelled, throwing the ball towards the wing spiker in the place Bokuto liked best.

Bokuto ran up to the net, his eyes glinting with enthusiasm, his head set on focus, and the volleyball, in turn, met his palm directly. The opponents on the other side of the net scrambled, suddenly thrown off by the change in pace, but a moment too late. The ball slammed onto the other side of the court, unopposed, the loud sound resounding across the walls of the gym.

A moment of silence before the whistle blew and suddenly everyone was screaming and hollering. “Bokuto!!” a cheer went out in the stands, on the court, in Akaashi’s heart.

Bokuto seemed to not comprehend the situation at first, breathing heavy and labored, as if he had just run a marathon.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, as his teammates gathered around him. “Great work.”

A triumphant laugh erupted from Bokuto’s chest and he extended his arms to the sky, screaming. Akaashi turned to signal the others to praise their captain as well, but he was beaten to the punch.

“Bokuto, that was amazing!”

“You really seemed to be flying for a second there!”

“Man, I thought you were done for the game, I can’t believe you picked yourself up like that!”

“Hey, hey, hey! I really am the best after all!!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” the rest of Fukurodani echoed, all of them wearing the same exasperated smile. The two managers seemed to let out a breath they had been holding. Akaashi watched the scene from afar, the victory bubbling in the back of his mind, the look on Bokuto’s face emblazoned on his long-term memory.

It wasn’t long before Bokuto was rushing towards him, a hand smacking Akaashi’s back firmly. “Akaashi, did you see that? That spike was great and I was incredible, right? I was awesome?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san, that was incredible.”

Bokuto beamed at him and Akaashi made sure to save that into his records as well.

 

 

 

 

 

As expected, Fukurodani blazed through the rest of the tournament that day unscathed, defeating even some of their older rivals without a single sweat. Bokuto succeeded in narrowly pulling off a lot of his straights to the surprise of many of the opponents he had previously faced who were familiar with his crosses.

With yet another win and another whistle blown, Bokuto seemed to be glowing, his enthusiasm uncontainable. He clenched his fist and pumped it in the air in a victory screech, his teammates crowding around him with similar cries of praise over his crosses.

“That’s our ace for you!”

“That was a really close one! You barely got through their block!”

 “How did you even get that Bokuto? That was a horrible setup!”

Bokuto laughed, the sound booming, and his head turned to Akaashi who met his gaze with mild surprise.

“No,” Bokuto breathed, a smile splitting his face, the joy contagious to everyone around him. “It wasn’t. It was perfect because it was Akaashi’s.”

Akaashi felt a pull in his chest that physically pained him. He was happy, he was sure, but something else, something longing for Bokuto—he wanted to run up and wrap his arms around the upperclassman’s shoulders, laugh without a care in the world, boast about his senpai’s skills that nobody else wanted to acknowledge. He wanted to hug him. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted. Akaashi’s eyes stung, and he wiped at them furiously, fighting desperately to keep those emotions in check. “That’s ridiculous, Bokuto-san. It was a pretty bad set.”

Bokuto merely grinned in response and the smile sent butterflies fluttering through Akaashi’s chest.

Much to the surprise of the others on court, Akaashi returned the gesture. In the midst of it, he didn’t notice the way Bokuto’s eyes widened, gaze fixed solely on Akaashi’s upturned lips.

 

 

 

 

 

It was the second day of competitions and they were struggling, that was for sure. It was their second set in and Fukurodani had lost the first. The opponents were a team their school had faced in the past and they were all too familiar with Bokuto’s crosses. Bokuto was growing more and more frustrated with each spike attempt.

All throughout the game, he had been trying to pull off a few straights as well, but half of them were misses. He couldn’t get one cleanly between the net and the blocker’s wall. Other times, he ended up spiking directly into the net instead of over it.

The entire team was frustrated. The opposing players seemed to be sneering at them, as if telling them they were only a newly formed group of third-years who hadn’t had many official matches to make up for their inexperience. Despite this, none of them blamed Bokuto. Sure, he was their ace and he was expected to pull the team whenever they faced difficult opponents, but he wasn’t the only one playing. Akaashi was glad to be on the court with teammates like these.

“I can’t do it,” Bokuto huffed, as another point made its way to the other team. He wiped sweat from his brow, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. The others were gathered around him, water bottles in hand. “I thought I was getting better at them, but I can’t and they keep blocking my crosses. It’s no fun anymore.”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi began, cutting off anyone else before they could speak. Bokuto turned to look at Akaashi. “You’ve only started to get the hang of your straights. Once more.”

Bokuto seemed to debate it for a second before shaking his head and nodding it at the same time. “Right. Okay. Give me the toss, Akaashi.”

The rest of the team seemed to brighten up, knowing that the ace hadn’t given up yet and they all filed back on court, a new resolve taking over them.

The serve went up, crossed to their side, and flew to the skies again after Komi received it, hovering above Akaashi for a brief moment.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto called from his corner of the court, a hand raised high above his head to indicate his location, as if Akaashi could ever forget where Bokuto was.

The opposing team responded quickly, closing in on the cross and narrowing their spiker’s path to a small sliver of an opening. The path for a straight.

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi called, sending the ball towards the ace.

Bokuto watched as the ball traveled from one side of the court to the other and after lining it with the open space in front of him, spiked the ball with all the force he could muster.

_Right on._

It made its way through the blockers and past the delayed receive of the libero, landing on the floor with the same resounding boom that Akaashi had grown to know and love. It was a straight. It was Bokuto-san’s. It was perfect.

The whistle rang and Fukurodani erupted in praise. Bokuto whirled around, locating Akaashi in an instant and rushed towards him, arms open wide. He was screaming, they were screaming, everyone was screaming. He had done it.

Bokuto grabbed Akaashi as they ran towards each other and spun him around, once, twice, three times, in total before they stopped, and Bokuto planted a hot, breathy kiss on Akaashi’s lips. Akaashi’s eyes widened, but he felt his body give in to all the suppressed desires he kept bottled up for months and it deepened, a mix of heavy breathing and tongue.

As soon as it had happened, they pulled apart, breathless, wide-eyed, and still clutching to each other as if that was the only thing that kept them together.

“D-did you just—” Akaashi felt his breath catch in his throat, unsure whether or not he had imagined the entire thing or not.

“Crap—” Bokuto stammered, a hand immediately latching onto his face that was getting progressively more scarlet. He looked everywhere but Akaashi’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to—I just got so caught up in the moment—oh my gosh, Akaashi, I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me, I really didn’t mean to, it just happened cause I was so happy and—”

Akaashi didn’t register half of it. Only one question stayed prominent in his mind. A question that he had never even considered before given his presumption of his upperclassman’s sexual preferences. “Bokuto-san, did you _want_ to kiss me?”

“No! I mean, yes! I mean, agh, I dunno. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, but I didn’t want it to be like this, agh, I’m such an idiot, please don’t leave the team, I promise I won’t do it again.”

Akaashi felt blood rush to his face. Watching Bokuto’s panic, he paused for a moment, contemplating his next words as best as he could. “I… may need to leave the team if you never do that again.”

“Huh?” Bokuto blinked.

In that moment, the rest of the team slammed into the two of them, enveloping them in hug that smothered the captain and vice-captain. There was whooping, hollering, and cheers that echoed throughout the gym—if onlookers didn’t know any better, it sounded as if they had won their ticket to nationals.

“Bokuto, that was a great straight!”

“I knew it! Bokuto, you sly dog—Komi you owe me 500 yen!”

“You know, at this point I don’t even care, just don’t make out on court ever again.”

“Guys,” Bokuto laughed, and the sound thudded across Akaashi’s chest loud and clear. Red spread across the captain’s cheeks and a similar scarlet blossomed all the way down Akaashi’s neck. “You knew all this time?”

Konoha rolled his eyes, making a gag noise with his mouth. “You two were so obvious.”

Akaashi thought he was warm enough with Bokuto pressed against his side, but now he was boiling hot, and uncomfortable. The entire team _knew_? And no one said anything? And it wasn’t just Akaashi, it was also Bokuto who…

He looked up and met Bokuto’s eyes. Bokuto blinked back, those golden eyes of his absolutely gleaming, reflecting Akaashi’s dark green ones. He gave a sheepish smile, but his lips gave away the absolute uncontainable joy at this new discovery that Akaashi liked him back. Akaashi looked away again, his ears burning and his head spinning.

At the referee’s whistle, the team untangled themselves from one another, ready to start their counterattack. Even as they got back into their respective positions, Akaashi couldn’t help but overanalyze the situation. This was unreal, another product of Akaashi’s imagination. There was no way in heck that Bokuto Koutarou, captain of Fukurodani, ace from a nationally recognized school, and man of his dreams liked him too. He snuck a peak in Bokuto’s direction.

Bokuto was looking straight back at him.

 

 

 

 

 

They lost in their second game, but Akaashi couldn’t help but feel he’d won something even better in the course of those few hours. Sure, they had made it through the worst of qualifiers, and they still definitely had nationals ahead of them as long as they kept pursuing the path they set ahead of them, but now there was the undiscovered road of romance Akaashi had never even fathomed.

It was kind of exhilarating.

The bus ride back was a mixture of queasy feelings, unchecked glances, and a whole lot of teasing from the rest of his teammates. In all honesty, Akaashi had thought he was at least _somewhat_ subtle in his infatuation over Bokuto.

Obviously, that was not the case.

“Sometimes you’d stare at him so long, I wondered if he had grown a third arm or something,” Konoha mused, a tone of exasperation clear in his voice. “Honestly, you could not have been more obvious, but of course, you had to be crushing on Bokuto who is, quite possibly, the densest person on the team if not the entire school.”

“Hey, I couldn’t tell at all!” Bokuto interjected, in mock anger. “Sometimes when Akaashi stared at me, I thought he was just pissed.”

“Yeah, pissed that you’re one he wants,” Sarukui snickered. Akaashi shot him a glare, but it lacked the impact it needed to fully scathe the upperclassman. After all, Bokuto was happily holding Akaashi’s hand and it didn’t look as if he was going to let go anytime soon.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said quietly, making as if to pull away. “It’s a bit hot in here.”

“Oh, okay, sorry, Akaashi!” Bokuto immediately retracted his fingers, but kept his eyes locked on Akaashi’s. Akaashi felt his teammates’ stares, but they paled in comparisons to Bokuto’s. He opted to turn and watch the buildings go by outside the window.

“He probably thought you were straight.”

Akaashi nearly started at the accuracy of the statement but refused to reenter the conversation out of his own free will.

“Really?” Bokuto asked, and the way he said it made it seem as if Akaashi’s worries were all unfounded. “I’m really fucking gay though.”

“We know,” Konoha deadpanned.

 _How come I never knew_ , Akaashi thought to himself, the thoughts dripping in remorse.

“You do give off this straight guy vibe though. Those really shitty shirts you always wear and the hats you wear backwards, you know?”

“Hey, my fashion sense is awesome!”

As the rest of the bus laughed, Bokuto scooted to sit closer to Akaashi. Akaashi closed his eyes, savoring the contact before realizing that they would likely have many more moments like this in the future. At the thought, he smiled, knocking his knees against Bokuto’s.

After they arrived back at school, everyone waved farewell to one another and Bokuto and Akaashi started walking home together, hand in hand.

“Did you really think I was straight, Akaashi?”

Akaashi snorted, intertwining his fingers with Bokuto’s, feeling the rough skin under his touch. “Maybe a little bit. Not my fault though.”

“Aghaashi…” Bokuto whined, leaning in closer to Akaashi, and nearly placing his head on the underclassman’s shoulders. “I can’t believe you’d think that, I really, really like you!”

“Sure,” Akaashi hummed, his eyes fluttering closed, confident that Bokuto would lead him to where they needed to go.

Bokuto stopped, and Akaashi followed, opening his eyes in confusion. Bokuto looked directly at Akaashi and as the sunset fell behind them, his eyes seemed to almost glimmer like gold. “Really, I really like you.”

Akaashi flushed, tugging on their hands. “Okay, I know, let’s go.”

Bokuto gave a breathy grin, bounding forward but never letting go of where they were linked. “Hey, Akaashi?”

“Hm?”

“You’re amazing. Can I kiss you again?”

Akaashi nearly spluttered at the suddenness of the compliment. If anything, Bokuto was the one who was amazing. He was captain, ace, and the man who held Akaashi’s entire world in his palm. He had the ability to inspire not only his own teammates, but others. And Akaashi adored every bit and piece of him, from top to bottom. There were no words he could say to truly express how he felt.

Akaashi smiled, squeezing their fingers together. Bokuto squirmed under the attention, staring back at Akaashi with equal adoration in his eyes.

Akaashi’s own eyes softened as he fell again for the man who represented forever, who represented something beyond an end, someone he was willing to stake his entire life on because Bokuto Koutarou was worth and could do so much more than he himself believed.

“Sure, Bokuto-san,” he spoke softly, meaning every word. “Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Find me on!! (talk owls to me)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/tetsookie)  
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